The Word Autism: My Wings and My Prison

The word autism.

My wings and my prison.

Must I forever be bound to the patriarch in this way? Is a facet of my deepest sense of identity one that was given me by the system?

Autism.

A word created by men, discussed, evaluated, decided upon by men. A word created for boys and perpetuating the gender binary. A definition adapted by patriarchy. A concept held hostage by a dangerous document and a medical institution. A title that only the rich can afford and the time-free can wait for.

Does the freedom we await when we gain approval from the patriarch (that we are indeed who we knew we were all along), justify the speculation, the gaslighting, the handing over of intimate information in a colonised space so that we can gift ourselves the benefit of government led assimilation (for our benefit), outweigh the risks to true actualisation and deep inner relationship to self?

Who keeps this gate, anyway?

Autism. A science word.

Science. A potential truth about a potential part of a potential truth based on exploration limited to what us silly humans think we know. #laughs

Hardly worthy of my identity is it?

I’m a silly human too. One of the only truths I hold is that l’m multidimensional and know little. Fact for me looks like being attuned to more, experiencing more, trapped by more, open to more, seeking more.

Not defined by science. Not given my identity by patriarch.

Not bound by rules. Not assessed by men.

Not sitting in relation with normativity, but flying beyond it’s confines and wondering which tree I can perch on that won’t be seen as too far away from mainstream or too close to mainstream, so that I am not misconstrued in the being perceived….